Vampyric Birthday
by Love Like Homicide
Summary: Much to the Goth and Vamp-kids shock, Michael gets Mike a birthday present. Oneshot. Michael/Mike


**I'm big fan of the Goth kids, they're by far my favourite South Park character. It's disappointing to see the lack of Michael X Mike fan fiction out there, considering they're probably the closest in age, and Mike _did_ risk his life (and vampiness) to save Michael, so I thought I'd give it a go. It's not the best thing I've written, but I'm contributing to the pairing and that was my aim.**

 **This is dedicated to my friend Alex, his birthday is on the 23rd so it's an early gift. Hope he likes it.**

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Michael wraps his mouth around the end of the cigarette, squinting his eyes slightly from the smoke drifting upwards. He inhales slowly, savouring the feel of the warmth on his tongue, he notices small flecks of the tobacco mix going down his throat. He exhales with a deep sigh, watching as the smoke leaves his body, he frowns at the bitter taste left in his mouth. He's not fond of it, but that's addiction for you.

'You look cool when you do that.' The boy next to him comments while waiting for him to pass back the smoke. With the strength of their addiction and the fact that none of them have jobs, the goths were sometimes reduced to sharing.

'Thanks.' He replies offhandedly, not looking at Pete.

'So, why are we in here?' Pete asks, gesturing lazily to the herds of students around them. They were currently standing in the school hallway, slumped against their almost unused lockers.

'Don't freak out, okay?' He replies, looking over at his friend. His face looks blank, but Pete can see the stern undertone.

'Okay, so why are we here?' He questions again. Pete isn't at all fazed by his friends request, It's not uncommon for Michael to give indirect answers, Pete just considered it to be one of his quirks, and on top of that he tends to get worked up over small thing.

Michael doesn't answer him this time, instead just starts digging around in his leather satchel. Pete raises an eyebrow, it was rare for Michael to bring more than just his cigs and lighter to school, and when he did have his bag it was even rarer for him to actually need something from it. But even so, here he stands, hands rummaging frantically and eyes darting up and down between his satchel and the clique gathering at the lockers across from them.

'Dude,' Pete says, pausing to take another drag, 'what the fuck are you doing?'

'I know it's in here somewhere.' Michael mutters distantly, seeming to brush off the question.

'What is?' Pete pushes, looking intrigued.

'Here it is.' He says, pulling out a logoless plastic bag and looking at it appraisingly. Without any further explanation he abandons Pete to wander across the hall and into vampire territory. Pete watches him, taking a few steps forward but not outright following. He's undoubtedly curious as to what his friend is doing, but considers it way too early to deal with those douchebag vampires, even if it's for Michael.

'Hey.' Michael says, giving Mike a bored look. Mike stares at him in shock for a moment before holding up a hand to silence his hissing minions. Michael doesn't acknowledge any of this, just stands there casually and waits for a verbal cue.

'And to what do we owe this unexpected interruption? We're in the mild of some very important vampire business, per say.' Mike asks, putting his hands and fingers together in what he hopes is a mysterious manner.

Michael rolls his eyes. 'Happy birthday.' He says monotonously, his expression still remaining blank as he holds up the plastic bag and offers it to Mike.

'Uh…' Mike's brain appears to shut down, he stares between the bag and Michael several times in disbelieve. Pete mimics this expression behind them, dropping the remaining stub of his cigarette onto the linoleum school floor.

'You going take it?' Michael asks, sounding irritated. Even though he didn't show it, wishing the self-proclaimed dark lord a happy birthday was humiliating enough, without having the guy prologue the situation with stupid gawking.

'What sort of trickery is this?' Mike recovers from his shock and demands defensively, still not taking the gift.

'Nothing,' Michael says, thrusting the bag at the other's chest, 'you like, helped save my life from emos or whatever. I figured I should at least acknowledge this faggy conformist celebration.' He explains, glaring at Mike and his confused followers anxiously.

'Oh–well –thank you?' Mike stammers out, accepting and opening the bag. He pulls out a copy of _Typhonian Vampyre Magick_ by Michael W. Ford, hardcover. Mike gapes at it, his face turning red. 'This–this looks expensive.' He mutters, completely awestruck by the whole situation. He slides the book back into the bag.

Michael just shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. 'Whatever. It's about vampires, and you need to try reading something that doesn't suck ass.'

'How much was it? There's no way I can accept this.' Despite his statement, Mike holds the bag closer to his chest.

'Doesn't matter, I'm not taking it back. If you don't want it, you can give it to one of your wannabe conformist friends or whatever.'

'But Michael–' the bell chimes, cutting him off.

Mike stands there, stock-still and looking hopelessly at Michael, as the other vamp-kids begin dispersing for class. 'See you around, Count Fagula.' Michael says, flashing what looks like a small smile, and walking towards the nearest exit with Pete in tow.

'Dude,' Pete drawls out, 'what the fuck was that about?'

'Nothing, just a thank you. I'm not a total asshole.' He says, pulling out his cigarette packet.

'You're shaking.' Pete points out.

Michael looks down at his hands. 'Yeah, well, maybe he's not a total asshole either.' He replies as they reach the back of the school.

'You guys are late.' Henrietta pipes up when she notices them.

'I had something to take care of.' Michael says cryptically.

Prompted by Henrietta and Firkle's quizzical looks, Pete shakes his head. 'Trust me, you don't want to know.'

Henrietta and Firkle exchange looks but don't push it, instead the sole female of the group opts to empty her tape collection onto the blanket bellow them. 'Okay guys, take your pick.'

And so continued another average day for the South Park Goth kids.


End file.
